


On The Path Of Destruction

by thezestycadenski



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Angst, Depression, Destruction, F/M, Love, M/M, POV First Person, Self-Destruction, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thezestycadenski/pseuds/thezestycadenski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a pretty long-ish story so settle in for the ride. Inspired by Skyhill's album - Run With The Hunted.</p>
    </blockquote>





	On The Path Of Destruction

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pretty long-ish story so settle in for the ride. Inspired by Skyhill's album - Run With The Hunted.

_"My name is Daniel," I said, facing the light and waiting for something to happen._

_"My name is Daniel Avidan," I said when nothing happened._

_"My name is Daniel Avidan, I was Not-So-Grump in the Game Grumps and I killed myself the day before my sister's birthday."_

_I stood quiet, with nothing more to say. Except I had a lot more to say, because that was only the end and there were so many things before that but I needed someone to_ _listen. I was waiting for someone to listen to my story, to help me make sense of what I had done and why I had done it._

_I waited, facing the light._

_And nothing happened._

_"My name is Daniel," I said for the last time._

My story isn't one of a lot of interest, I had a pretty average life, I was the guy smoking pot and making music. I didn't really have a plan for my life, I was never good at planning, it unduly stressed me out. I just assumed I would be smoking pot and making music for the rest of my life.

  
Until Arin found me.

  
The first thing he'd made us do together was to create a plan. He couldn't have known that I wasn't much of a stickler for plans but I went along with it, starting to have the same feelings I had years ago, back when I was a teenager. I guess it was obvious at the time, that I didn't like the direction we were heading in but they all tried, they really did. I thought I had enough practice at hiding my true emotions with smiles and laughter, but looking back on it, knowing that they didn't know me well enough to know when I was hiding something, it must have been obvious. They didn't know my patterns well enough and they saw through the whole charade.  
They tried everything to make me happy, but I was determined to stay sad. It was a reoccurring pattern in my life, so why should I bother being happy if I was just going to get dragged down again. I wanted to be alone, away from them. I wanted to be left alone to live with myself, by myself and die at forty of a heart attack.

 

  
 _I wasn't going to kill myself._  
 _No, that was stupid._

 

  
Just to get back at them, for trying so hard to make me be happy, I started smoking again. Just ordinary cigarettes. It was a self-destructive form of stress relief, and for me, it worked. Every time I felt like my chest was about to cave in, I would get up and walk out taking my pack of smokes and lighter with me. They didn't question it as much as I thought they would. But like I said, looking back on it, it was obvious that I was far less than happy.

  
There was that one day, that I was sitting in a cheap bar, drowning myself in alcohol, when a girl with cigarette smoke in her mouth approached me. She tried to get me drunk, and I appreciated it but I was far from caring about what she wanted to do. "Wanna go somewhere more private?" The suggestion was bland to me, knowing what she expected. But I still went. I didn't care but she'd bought me drinks and allowed me to mooch some cigarettes off her and I felt I owed her something for her endeavor.  
We did it on the second floor balcony of an apartment across the road from the bar. We barely talked. She only asked if I had a condom and took her clothes off for me. Neither of us made a sound the whole time, just stared at each other. After we were done she saw that I saw the blood stain on the white sheet laid on the concrete, but we both pretended that I didn't see. I got dressed and left, heading back the house I lived in that I couldn't call home because it felt nothing like home should have felt and I was okay with that.

On the next day I saw her at the supermarket, she was the cashier girl. I went back to the house I lived in and trashed it.

I began to see her more and more often, walking through the town, hanging out at the bar, working as the cashier girl. I didn't even know her name but I wasn't ever going to ask for it. I was never going to talk to her again. I wasn't even going to think about her. But I still noticed her more often.  
One day when I got back to my house, it was full of smoke. I panicked, thinking I hadn't stubbed a cigarette out properly, thinking that I'd burn my house down. But then I heard the bedroom door creak open and it was her, a burning cigarette in between her fingers. She took in a long drag and blew it in my face, then she kissed me and took her top off. Arin came by, to see if I was okay, and she was still lying on my living room floor naked. She looked frail and disappearing on the white carpet. She looked the way I wanted to look before my heart attack at forty. Arin said nothing, just turned around and walked out my open front door.  
I felt compelled to talk to him about it. He didn't judge but I didn't tell him everything. He simply laughed and asked if he could help.

He couldn't. Not with her.

But our three-hour chat had worked it ways and made things more bearable. And that, for once, was enough. For the first time in two years, I looked at the situation I had with them and noticed the vibrant buzz and the endless whirl of conversation and I wanted to join in. I remember opening my mouth only to find that I had nothing to say. I had nothing to say because for the past two years I'd never joined in. The only person I really talked to was Arin and that didn't count because most of them were at three a.m. and conversations past midnight tend to be avoided or forgotten.

I remember seeing her at work again, she was looking at me as I lined up at the counter next to hers. The customer's tried to engage her but she would answer stiffly and sharply and then go back to staring at me. I don't know if it was because she always smoked around me but it was strange to see her without a cigarette in hand. And suddenly she didn't look how I wanted to look before my heart attack at forty. She looked young and pretty and fresh in her green t-shirt. She wasn't the weird girl that had silently entered my life anymore, she was a normal person. 

I didn't know if I had lost all interest or picked up a lot more. I guess at the time I didn't understand that no matter who she was to me, no matter how pretty she was or how she dressed or how good she was to sleep with, she'd been the only one to reach out and touch a part of me I didn't think I had. She'd been the only one to reach out when I didn't want to be touched. I didn't know her name even though a part of me was curious about it, there was another part that just didn't care. It was my problem then - if I didn't care. If I did, I probably would have killed myself a lot sooner.

Arin understood. Arin didn't judge.

Arin listened. Arin talked.

I listened. I cared.

I hated caring about him, I hated liking him because he was my only friend and I needed someone to hate. I needed someone to bring down, to destroy.

I went back to the apartment that night, the part of me that wanted to know her name had won. I hadn't planned anything, I just had hate in my heart and wanted the girl who took me without complaint. She didn't open her door at first, music flowed through the dirty dusty halls of the apartment block. I banged on her door with all I had but a small part of me wished she wasn't there. I didn't like her, let that be said. The only reason she was interesting to me was because she had, to a certain degree, a mystery about her. But I was determined to clear the smoke and then drag my ass back to my house so I could live with myself, by myself until I died at age forty from a heart attack.

Then she opened the door.

She was wearing a black tutu and had her hair was tied back in a painful bun. "It's not safe here," She said, running down the corridor. I wasn't drunk enough for that. I followed her the way you'd follow a cheap girl in tutu and that's how I wanted to see her, because it gave me a weird thrill to think of her like that and the supermarket was ruining my image of her.  
She ran out through the fire exit and settled on the top step and took a cigarette out.

"Why are you here?" She asked, lighting the tattered cigarette.

"I don't know," I said, and I really didn't.

"You shouldn't be here," She continued. "You're a bad influence."

I almost laughed at the last remark but kept it to myself.

"I'm a good girl, y'know?" She said. I knew.

"I don't even smoke." She said. And I had to laugh at that, there was smoke in voice even as we spoke and I'd never not seen her without a cigarette in her mouth. Except at the supermarket, of course. She laughed alongside me and crossed her little black feet. At that moment she resembled an angel, small and innocent, but the black made her seem dark and dangerous. Then she stubbed out the cigarette to prove to me she wasn't lying.

"Why did you do it?" I asked. Her feet were hanging loose off the edge of the stairwell and we both watched her legs sway in mid-air. She looked ashamed but smiled nevertheless. It was weird seeing her like that. She seemed more naked more than when she'd taken off her clothes for me. And I didn't need to know that but the sadistic desire rose in me one again, urging me on.

"Why did you sleep with me?" Perhaps it wasn't the question that was bothering me, nor the act of undressing for me and opening her legs for the first time. It was the way she acted. It was the constant company of the cigarette and the coolness of her mind that chilled me to the bone. It was how careless she was about the whole thing.

"Once you fall in love, you fall for nothing else." She lit another cigarette.

I couldn't tell if I was making her nervous or it was a habit devoid of control. She lit it with the same carelessness she had about everything, it seemed, and that pissed me off. She wasn't misery and she wasn't miserable but she was the cause of other people's misery and how they lived their lives with it.

"You're in love with me?" I felt like a moron for asking but I'd stayed by myself for a long time for a reason, they would always find a reason to leave. I think that was the first time since I'd met Arin that I'd been caught off guard and I didn't know if it was because of her, her voice, or her cigarette or her tutu that made it seem to mean more than it actually did. Even later, when I was pulling her hair and biting and gasping into her shoulder on the rooftop I didn't understand why she let me do it. I was a bad influence. I was bad news. I was the worst. It made no sense. That night was the first night that I didn't put on a condom, I didn't care if she got pregnant because I already destroyed everything precious in her anyway.

I didn't tell Arin about it when I went back one week later. Arin was the only who worried about me. I was glad that he worried about me because that meant he cared about me. I didn't tell him about her because I still don't know about her, because I hadn't seen or talked to her since that night on the rooftop, and because, for no apparent reason, I didn't want him to know about her or things I did to her although he had a girlfriend and I believed he didn't need to hear the details.  
He tried bringing her up, you know. He tried talking about her and comparing her to his girlfriend, but I got angry and cut him off. If I could lock the doors and keep them away and talk to Arin for an eternity or so, I might've ended up differently.

 

  
 _I didn't know I was going to kill myself then. Not yet._

 

  
He asked me where I'd been all week and I said I didn't remember, that I'd been too drunk. He dropped it at that. He didn't want to know.

Then he started talking about his week and it was so easy to listen to him. He spoke with easiness and no cockiness and it would have annoyed me had I not been entertained. That made me want to tell him a story too and because he was such a good listener he helped me begin it. I didn't know what to tell him, though. So I started the same old story that I'd told him when we first met, the one about the time I had pot on me and his mother had found it, and thrown me out. Telling it was my own type of masochism. But then the topic shifted and we talked about my best friend and how he'd never called after that day I'd been thrown out and how he never bothered to ask how I was or how he'd never even tried to say hello.

I didn't hate him, I told Arin. I was just hurt.

But Arin just kept going, saying that we all lived with our sad stories and disappointments . "You just have to find a way to deal with," he said and moved on. He never stayed on topics too long.

I didn't know what his way was but it seemed to be a fairly good one as I never saw him in a bad mood. He was as perfect as a human being could be and I appreciated it. At that time I didn't feel very normal, I felt as though I was contagious and anyone who came into contact with me would be infected with the ever deepening and suffocating smog of pessimism. Except for Arin. He was perfect.

Her name was Lisa and I found it out reluctantly. She lead me to her house, her parent's house, and made me understand how lucky she was. I couldn't hate her afterwards although I really tried. The fact that she wasn't as perfect as everyone thought she was made her seem even better. She led me to her room quietly after we'd spent the entire walk silent. She closed the door quietly and opened her laptop and started typing. I guess she wanted for me to understand but couldn't say it. And that place, that shitty apartment gave her strength that she couldn't sustain in this pretty, clean house which turned her back into an innocent child I couldn't touch.

I didn't know if she was different or if she seemed different. Perhaps she didn't feel different and was still trying to wash away the stain of my hands on her body, the blood spot that kept dripping onto the white sheet. But there, in that room, she was still innocent in between those pink sensitive walls and I had to leave.  
She stopped me even though she hadn't smoked in this house, she stopped even though she knew about the cigarettes in my pocket and the whiskey in my backpack. She wanted me to read it. But I couldn't. I sat down and clicked delete.

Then she kicked me out of her house.

She didn't try to see me after that. She went back to being the same pattern of wallpaper that nobody ever noticed, just like before. My noticing her was the thing that made her exist and after that even if the world circled around her, she was nobody. Sometimes my natural call sent me back banging on her apartment door, but she didn't go there anymore. If I cared, it would have been quite sad to see her parting with a side of herself she could explore nowhere else just because of me. Too bad I didn't.

One day I couldn't take it anymore and confronted her as she was going in for work, I did it on purpose, to make everyone see what I wanted to see, to make everyone hear what I wanted them to hear.

 

  
 _I was such an ass back then._

 

  
"Fine!" she said. "Tonight at nine," and snapped the door in my face. I saw the other staff all staring at me and felt pleased, I liked seeing the influence I had on people. I had achieved what I wanted. Nine o'clock. She was going to be waiting there for me. I was going to be there for the first time since I first penetrated her.

I didn't go.

I was ashamed to say this to Arin. He wasn't going to make me go but he would stop me from hurting her again. I didn't know if I was ready for that. I felt sorry for what I'd done the next time I turned up in front of her apartment's door. It didn't make any sense why I went back there. It was this little game I played with myself. I wanted her when I couldn't have her and didn't want her when I could have her and I hated her when I hurt her. What a sadistic bastard! I was so sick of it. I was on my way to destruction but if I was going to destroy myself, I'd ruin everything I could get my hands on in the meantime. I broke into her apartment and trashed it.

The concerning thing was I didn't even know why I was doing it. The pleasure I got from the very act of breaking things, and people was too twisted for me to admit, so I was desperately trying to find another explanation. I talked to Arin about it because I felt like he was the only one who wouldn't judge me. For some reason, it didn't matter if the whole world was against me as long as I had Arin on my side. He told me there was nothing wrong with it.

"We all have moments where we want to beat the crap out of somebody." He said matter-of-factly. He was a nice guy. I felt bad for Lisa, I hid a pack of cigarettes in her work locker with a note that said to meet in her apartment.This time I did go - partly because I wanted to see her and partly because I wanted to see if she'd turn up. She came. I didn't understand why she kept coming.

She tossed me back the unopened packet as she unlocked the renovated door. Everything inside was the same as I'd left it. She didn't seem to care. She walked in, to the fridge, took out a beer, handed it to me and started taking her clothes off. I felt as though that was the effect I had on her and she kept coming back, not because I was special or she was in love with me but it was because she was addicted to my body. It would have been nice were it the truth.

"I can't understand you," I blurted out and waited for an answer.

"You don't have to," She said, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.

"Why me?" I asked her.

"Because you were the thing I needed."

"An alcoholic, cigarette addicted mooch who had a tendency to break everything around him, that has crazy hair?"

"Yes." she said.

I couldn't take it. I sat down as she was undoing the zipper of my pants.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I'm a good girl."

"I'll ruin you."

"I'm already in ruins."

"I don't love you."

"You don't have to."

"I don't like you."

"That's irrelevant."

She started touching me and I gave up. I couldn't and didn't want to think about it anymore.

"What are you dong on the weekend?" I surprised myself by asking afterwards.

"I'm daddy's little princess. I'll probably be playing with unicorn toys."

She got up and put on her black tutu. It made me smile.

"What happened after you 'tutored' me?" Our lie had been easily swallowed by her parents.

"I became a rebel," she said, a mischievous smile on her face.

She quietened down and looked sad for a bit. I wasn't going to ask what was wrong because she wanted me to do that. Eventually she said, " I won't be here next year"

That made me jump slightly. Then I decided she was kidding.

"What have you done, you little devil?" I asked jokingly.

She looked at me with the biggest eyes I'd ever seen and said, "I hope our daughter is the same."

My heart sank in my chest but for the first time in a long time I felt happy. I was ecstatic and that made no sense because I was probably never going to see her again and I didn't love her and we were going to have a child, but I was still happy. I knew I wasn't going to be responsible for it. I was invincible. I knew that her parents wouldn't leave her to look after the baby herself. I knew that baby was in good hands.

"Are you keeping it?" I asked.

"I hope it's a girl, I have enough brothers as it is, I want to bring a little princess to this kingdom."

"Is this a yes?"

"You know that in the end, it's down to my parents, right? I can't keep her in secret forever. I'll have to tell them."

"But if it's too late, they won't be able to make you... They won't kill _her_ , will they?

She didn't answer.

"Do... Do you want it?"

She nodded and started crying. I would have hated her for it if it wasn't for the baby. I hated expressions of emotion but I wanted her to see that I was happy. Before I left she said I couldn't tell anyone. I didn't. Summer passed without incident and I didn't hear from her all summer. I knew that in some ways it was good because she'd only call if something was wrong. Yet, sometimes I need assurance. I clung to her as much as I clung onto the day my mother kicked me out. But I didn't call her either. It felt inappropriate. I felt a little guilty. Arin had gone on vacation with his girlfriend over summer, so I was left alone.

 

  
 _This is always the hardest part to tell._  
 _Can I skip it?_

 

 

 

_Fuck._

  
I realised that summer I was in love with Arin. It wasn't sensible to miss someone so much. And it wasn't sensible that I could imagine kissing him Hello aftr the long break. And the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. I tried to be tough about it. I tried denying it. I tried telling myself it was illusion just because he was the closest thing I had to a friend and I missed him. And then I really did try thinking of him as my best friend. It was sad. And he had a girlfriend, so he wouldn't understand. He wouldn't feel the same way. And I had to decide right then and there if I cared about what he feels.

And then I thought about Lisa and wondered if she knew. I still didn't love her the way I should have but I knew her. If there was anyone who had seen it before me, it was her. I tried hating her for it. I tried hating Arin too. And for the first time I didn't try to hate myself. Actually, I think I already did.

I didn't know if Arin had changed over the summer or I had. I just know that I was extremely happy to see him and still wanted to kiss him and I was still embarrased by it, but there was something off. He was perfect like always and he acted perfectly, and he didn't even have a girlfriend any more so he was more perfect than ever. Yet when I entered our new Grump room for the first time I knew that something was not the same.

It was the first time I'd been in love with a man, and it was exactly the same as loving a girl. I wanted him to be happy - I just didn't want the happiness to exclude me. I knew he didn't do it on purpose. I knew if he knew about it, he'd change it in a splilt second. But I couldn't tell him. There was this thing about being with him. Not the in love part. The feeling of a substitute person, y'know? It's like the person spends time with you just because they feel obligied to do so. And when there's a better alternative they rush to take it, so they're not stuck with you. A substitute person. I tried to make sense of it. Last year I was a total ass but Arin never mouthed a word that made me feel weird or down. He was too move-on-ish. And this year I decided to be on my best behaviour - for my baby! - I was going to give it my all until all I had left was love for that tiny creature in me. And Arin wasn't the tiny creature obviously, since he was nowhere near tiny, but I still wanted to be a better person so he'd notice and acknowledge it. I guess that made me less interesting as the crazy bastard from last year who went around screwing people up.  
That year I felt worse than ever before because I tried and it wasn't me slapping people in the face but it was the world slapping me and kicking my ass and sending me out the door. I was loing my mental power at the speed of light and I was losing control over what was happening to me. I remembered doing it before - being nice and stuff - and I didn't remember hating it. But once you liberate yourself from all those stupid society norms and start doing whatever the fuck you want, it becomes impossible to serve those stupid sheep again. And they make you feel bad about it!

 

  
 _Now that I think about it, it would have made a lot of sense to pull the trigger right there and then. I could have made a big fuss about with all those people around. I could have even injured some of them. Maybe killed a few._

_What's wrong with me?_

 

  
It was okay for a while, I guess. I tried my best to stay on my best behaviour. Arin wasn't impressed. He was drifting away from me to the point where we barely talked and every time we did, I felt like an intruder in his personal space or private world. That made me go crazy. I had developed some sort of weird insomnia while I was trying to be a good boy again. That meant endless nights lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. Arin started staying over at my house more often. I was mad at Arin for being asleep when I was not.

I don't know why I did it. Why exactly that. I don't know whether I did it because I wanted to freak him out or because... I wanted it.

He was staying at my house and I snuck into his bed. He slept like a rock and didn't notice. But I snuck in. And I am almost sure I did it to freak him out.

It got even weirder. I start hugging his waist and making smoochy noises. That I did, and I am one hundred percent certain of it, just for the sake of scaring him. You should have seen how he leapt out of bed. Man, he was freaked!

"You're an ass, Arin" I said. " You should have seen it coming."

He agreed and laughed and didn't look at me suspiciously because he thought Lisa was my girlfriend. He asked about her and I said her father had moved her to another school because he thought I was a bad influence.

He laughed a lot about it maybe because he actually believed I had changed. Of course, he couldn't have known about the passion with which I smoked nowadays. He didn't know that I wanted to kick him in the guts and then jump in his bed. He didn't know that Lisa was pregnant and the way I adored the baby as an only saviour and continuation of my bloodline. He didn't know about the trigger that was going to explode in the form a tied rope a few months later. He didn't know all that and he'd thought I'd changed.

"Does Lisa still go to the apartment?" He asked.

"I dunno know, man. We've been lying low lately."

I asked him about his girlfriend.

"She wasn't the one." he said.

"Do you really believe in all that? The one, soulmates and stuff?"

He didn't answer and I understood it partly. There was no perfect scenario, no faith, no magic. It was us with our problems and the individual way in which everyone was broken. I guess we were all looking for the one who thought we could fix us.

"Do you believe in it?" He asked me.

"I wish I didn't because love is restricting. But once you fall in love you fall for nothing less." I recite her words, trying to understand them by giving them a new meaning.

He went back to bed and smiled a lot the next day. I noticed a tendency. We only talked when I was a broken toy, breaking things around me. That was when I was interesting. A week later I didn't stub out my cigarette behind the supermarket. I didn't stub out twenty. It didn't burn down but everyone was scared and some of them got light smoke poisoning. It was beautiful. I told him it was me. I was invincible and interesting. And we talked a lot. The whole week afterwards we talked. I was happy.

Lisa called me. She said it was boy and she was going to name him Daniel. To keep the tradion alive. I decided to get fit after that.

Man, it was bad! I was out of shape and had gallons of alcohol in my blood and cigarette smoke in my lungs. I had difficulties climbing the stairs. To the third floor! And I wasn't invincible to the exercise coach. He'd get my ass in shape or kick it out himself. He made me practice extra. He said I had potential and he was going to squeeze it out of me until I only had talent and skills left. I appreciated it. I enjoyed not feeling invincible for once - it was such a responsibility. And Arin would come to watch, to cheer me on. He said he'd help me train and made me go up and down the staircase until I'd exhaled painfully every cigarette I'd ever smoked.

She sent me a picture of the baby taken with that strange machine doctors use to see what's going on in your body. I didn't like that machine because I was afraid that if I fell downstairs and broke an arm or a leg or my neck or whatever, they'd be able to see inside me in a way I never knew existed. I didn't like not knowing about myself.

 

  
 _I never tell this part of the story properly..._

 

  
Okay, let's take a step back because you probably didn't believe that last one. Don't think that I didn't know something was wrong with me. I knew it. And I knew perfectly well what it was. And I knew about the hanging rope ever since she told me about the baby. And I knew I was in love with Arin the first time I acknowledged his perfection. I knew these things as well as I knew that every cigarette I smoked was slowly killing me and that every cigarette she ever smoked was maybe killing small cells in my child, and I would never be able to restore it. I knew it was sad. I knew it was tragic. That thing... That thing that happened to me was terrifying. I know there was another way. There must have been. At the time it was easier to think that there was no other way - that it was meant to be. I liked to think that the loss of everything familiar dug the ground beneath my feet.

Now, I know these were mere excuses, I know it, okay? I know that I must have had it in me. That somewhere on the way I got so damaged that I was just looking for an excuse to pull the trigger. And damn it, did I get a whole lot of excuses! I know that I sound like a whining baby. At my age, at that time, people would usually tell "Man up!" And they were right. It seemed like I was over-exaggerating and maybe I was. I don't know why those events had such an impact on me. Maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I should have asked _them_.

 

  
 _Too late for it now._

 

  
But I think the final straw was when everyone moved on and no one cared. Yes, I used to be the homeless kid, but there were thousands of them in the world. But every poor attempt was just another nail in my coffin, another disappointment in salvation. I wanted to be saved. I actually did. But every time I reached out, I realised more and more people in this world were backstabbing bitches and you either became one or escaped miserably. I tried both.

 

  
 _Do I need to explain the anger and aggression? We've heard this one before._

 

_..._

 

Fine! I was a mean, destructive bastard! Is that what I'm supposed to say? Not only did I ruin everything and everyone around me, but I did it with pleasure. You wanna know why? Because I believed they deserved it! And I know it seems that I always attacked the innocent and helpless - I know that's how she appeared but all of them survived, didn't they? And I am the one standing here now! So who was helpless at the end of the day?!

 

  
 _I'm tired of this._  
 _Can we wrap this up already?_

 

I was in love with Arin. Lisa was expecting a baby from me. She came earlier than expected and I got to see my son for the first time even though he was hiding under her belly skin. I felt him kicking. She left. I played a game of basketball that night and scored the final, winning goal. Everyone was so proud. Arin was so proud. I kissed him in the locker room after everyone had left to party. He didn't pinch me. Maybe if he had, he would have saved my life. Who knows? But he didn't do that. He didn't say anything. He just smiled and left. I was happy. I was so happy that my unstable mentality couldn't help the thought that this happiness was not to last too long and that the next day was going to be the next disastrous day, and so would be one after the other and the other would follow and so on until I turned fourty and died from a heart attack. And I couldn't stand the idea of this happiness going away. I couldn't stand the thought of it being replaced by reality again and start sucking the life out of me slowly and painfully. I couldn't stand it.

So I went home, took a rope from the gardening shed and hung myself from my ceiling fan.

 

_I apologise for yelling..._

 

_Should I start again?_

 

_..._

 

 

_Okay._

 

_"My name is Daniel Avidan and I killed myself on the night when I kissed the boy I was in love with." I said, staring into the white light._

_No one replied._

_No one ever did._


End file.
